


Along These Trodden Paths

by the_space_in_my_head



Category: Fifth Harmony (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Coming of Age, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Fifth Harmony - Freeform, highschool
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-04-18 02:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14202855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_space_in_my_head/pseuds/the_space_in_my_head
Summary: Her throat feels dry and she can’t relinquish the need to repeatedly swallow, as though she’s holding tears at bay.Why is she so upset? She’s not....Is she?Maybe it’s something to do with the fact that she’s always felt approximately one step behind Lauren, safely hidden behind her shoulderand close enough to take her hand if she needs.But now it seems Lauren is running ahead, taking these great leaps when she’s only just started to crawl.-A coming of age story of five girls through high school to college, focusing on the complex and intense relationship of Lauren and Camila.





	1. Chapter 1

It’s pouring outside, Lauren can hear the rain pounding against her bedroom window as she lies bundled within a pile of blankets in her bed. She’s wearing a pair of flannel pyjama pants and a thin sweater, and Camila lies next to her, fiddling with a dangling, loose thread on her top.

“I love the rain,” Lauren mumbles, half asleep. “Especially when it’s so loud, for some reason that calms me.”

Camila smiles indulgently. “Of course you do. It’s the poet in you.” She teases gently. She admires the smooth slope of Lauren’s nose, the scattering of freckles that have emerged endearingly this summer.

“Nah. It’s like you focus on all the small, but significant, shitty things in life every day, and…” She yawns, eyes closing. Camila grins, unable to stop herself from tucking a stray curl behind Lauren’s ear. That damn stray curl, always stubbornly tickling Lauren’s right eye. “And, then the rain,” Lauren continues. “It comes along and just fucking pours it down like this, cleansing everything, drowning shit and feeding the Earth, and continuing the cycles of life…” Another yawn. Camila waits patiently, a smile playing around her lips. She knows they’ll be a point somewhere, there’s always a point with Lauren. That’s why she’s head of middle school debate class. _Was_ , she reminds herself, a familiar, giddy feeling in her stomach. “And you realise how small your problems are, how small _you_  are. And I know that scares some people, but it calms something in me, that’s almost always, I don’t know… _restless,_ or anxious maybe? I’m not sure. All I know for certain is that we’re living in nature’s Earth, witnessing its incredible things every day and we’re lucky, you know?”

She opens her own earthy eyes and looks to Camila innocently for reassurance, and Camila thinks she’s the cutest thing. She grins big, overbite and all, and squeezes Lauren’s soft body closer, breathing in the warm smell of her. “You cutie. I totally get what you mean. You’re such a nature baby, I’m sure you’d be more at one living in the forest.” Lauren giggles into her neck.

“Maybe we should just skip high school and go and live in the forest together.” She replies, and Camila feels that jump, a combination of nerves and excitement, in her stomach again.

“I can’t believe we’re starting high school in _two days_.” She all but squeals, squeezing Lauren even tighter until she chokes out a complaint. “It’s like middle school felt like it went on _forever,_ but now suddenly High School is _right there_ and I don’t know how I feel.” she rattles out. Lauren mms in agreement. “Mani can’t wait, I was on the phone to her earlier, she has her first day outfit picked out.”

Lauren chuckles. “Of course she does, it’s Mani.”

Camila pauses for a contemplative second then hesitantly asks, “What are you wearing?”

Laughing properly this time, Lauren peeks her head up from where its resting on Camila’s chest and bops Camila on the nose. “I don’t know. I’m not worried and you shouldn’t be either. I’ll see what feels right on the day I guess.” She yawns, stretching her slim body like a cat, toes curling, before settling back down on Camila’s chest with satisfaction.

Camila huffs. The annoying thing is she knows Lauren isn’t putting on a façade. Things like this really don’t stress her, whereas _Camila_ is inherently predisposed to obsess over them.

A pale hand taps her on the side of her head. “Switch that brain off, I’m tired. It’s time to sleep.” Lauren mumbles. Camila rolls her eyes but leans over, squishing a grumbling Lauren, to switch off the bedside light.

“Night Lo,” She whispers into the dark. “Mmnight Camz.” Lauren curls into her, already drifting away.

***

The day before school is due to start, a few things happen. Camila and Lauren meet Keaton. Camila’s dad gets made redundant. Camila starts her period.

They decide to go to the beach one last time before summer ends. Camila knows she’s gonna miss it so much when school starts back up. The taste and feel of the salt on her skin, Lauren’s curly beach hair, the heat on her shoulders, and the tiredness in her limbs at the end of the day. The beach isn’t as nice when it doesn’t have the freedom of summer attached to it.

Bikinis and jeans shorts on, they make their way down the familiar path that they’ve trodden hundreds of times since they were six years old, back when they had gappy teeth and grasped buckets and spades in their chubby hands.

Now fourteen, they carry towels and sweatshirts to wear when the evening cools down, and Camila envies the fact that Lauren fills her bikini more than her. It’s not that Lauren’s breasts are big per say, not like Susan Beakfield’s, but Camila’s are non-existent. She might as well be a boy in a bikini for all the curves she has. She’s voiced this deep concern to Lauren before, but Lauren had simply studied her before stating: “That’s not true Camz, you have a nice bum.”

They’d been in Camila’s room earlier that summer, Lauren flicking through magazines and Camila staring despondently into the mirror at herself. At Lauren’s words she’d swivelled round, craning her neck at an impossible angle to get the best glance at her butt. “You think?”

“Totally.” Lauren had replied, mouth full of pink popstickle.

“Well, I guess if you say so.” Camila felt slightly better about herself, enough to retrieve a magazine and lie down beside Lauren.

“Pinky swear.”

Later Camila had thought how nice Lauren’s lips looked stained dark pink like that, and told her she should buy a lipstick that colour. Lauren had blushed and said she’d keep that in mind.

 

They’re at Miami Beach Café drinking their post-swim milkshakes when Lauren spots him. Stocky, with golden skin and surfer’s hair, he sits up in the lifeguard chair wearing a bright red hoody and fiddling dully with the whistle around his neck. Slurping up some mango milkshake, Lauren observes him with contemplative eyes.

“He’s kinda cute don’t you think?”

Camila squints against the sinking sun. “I dunno. Can’t really see him from here.”

“Well,” Lauren stands up suddenly and grabs Camila’s hand. “Let go get a closer look.” Camila lets herself be hauled up reluctantly, giving a mournful look to her banana milkshake.

Up close Keaton is unspectacular. He looks about seventeen, has blue eyes and downy, blonde hair on his legs. He doesn’t even notice them until they’re right in front of his chair, when he sits up in surprise, spilling a dribble of the coke he’d been drinking onto his hoodie.

“Hey.” Lauren drops her voice about two octaves lower than usual, so it’s soft and pleasing to the ear. Camila rolls her eyes and wonders if the boy is going to wipe his chin.

“Erm, hey.”  He seems unsure what to do with his limbs, crossing and uncrossing his arms and legs multiple times. Camila understands. Lauren does look very pretty after all, in her oversized grey, wool sweater, brushing the salty, dark curls back from her eyes, face tinted a soft pink from the sun. Camila understands.

“I haven’t seen you girls around, don’t come here often?” There’s a forced casualness in his voice.

“Actually,” Camila is happy to fill in, “We come here like almost everyday.” Lauren smiles.

“Oh.” Keaton laughs shortly. “Well how have I never seen a couple of cute girls like you two out and about on the beach?”

Camila shrugs. “Doesn’t seem like you do a lot of looking around up there. I mean, we made you spill your drink.” She looks pointedly at his stained hoodie and he blushes.

Lauren pinches her side and she wriggles away from the slight pain.

Raising his shoulders defensively, he shoots back. “You try sitting up here for like six hours without staring into space!”

Before Camila can come up with a smart ass response, Lauren jumps in. “Camz is just joking around. She’s never had a job in her life so she wouldn’t get it.” Camila huffs at that, slightly annoyed. “Neither have you!” She whines, glaring at the side of Lauren's head. Lauren ignores her, choosing instead to stick her hand forward as Keaton dismounts from his seat and stands in front of them, albeit still looking a little put out. “I’m Lauren, this is Camila.”

He shakes it, looking more confident now that he’s on level ground. “I’m Keaton.” His eyes flicker quickly across Lauren’s face, and Camila can see that she notes the attention by the light blush on her cheeks. “So…” Lauren coughs. “You go to school nearby, or are you holidaying or what…?”

Keaton flicks his floppy hair and grins. “Nah, Miami born and bred baby!” Lauren laughs. “I go to school at Fairdale High.” At that Lauren can’t help but break her cool façade by bouncing on the balls of her toes. “We’re starting there tomorrow!” Camila’s excitement mirrors hers as she turns to look at Keaton.

He however, seems to have withdrawn slightly. Looking a bit awkward, he stretches an arm behind his head, and Camila can’t help but notice his sort of impressive bicep. Whatever.

“Oh, coolll. Right, so, you’re like fourteen?”

“So what?” Lauren frowns.

“Nothing! That’s cool, I just thought- never mind. Hey I gotta go, but maybe catch you around…” Keaton’s words are coming out quickly now, a jumble of excuses before he hurries away, feet sliding on the sand ungracefully.

“He’s weird.” Camila turns to Lauren. “Wanna head home? Your mom will definitely be wondering where you are.”

Lauren doesn’t seem to hear her. “Why are boys like this? It’s like they struggle with basic communication and interaction.”  
Camila sighs. “He probably thinks he’s too cool for you because he’s like a senior, or whatever. That would be a bit weird.” She toes the sand. “What about Paul anyway, I didn’t know you were over him now?”

Paul was Lauren’s first and only boyfriend. They’d dated for about three and a half months towards the end of Grade Eight, but Lauren had had a crush on him for about a year. Lauren wasn’t one to blabber on about her crushes like some girls, but Camila knew anyway. She’d been witness to the way Lauren would light up around him, or be in a foul mood if she thought a conversation with him had gone dryly. She also followed Lauren’s tumblr, and the amount of verbal vomit on there about her adoration of him was enough to sound slightly obsessive. One day Lauren had left her diary on her bed and Camila had accidently (sort of) read an entry about how she thought she was in love with him. That was the thing with Lauren, she didn’t do things lightly. She went all in or not at all. Unlike Camila, who had a knew hobby, idol, or interest every week. Camila’s dad always said she was unfocused. _Life is all about choosing paths, and sticking to them, or you get lost Mija._ Camila _really_ didn’t want to become stuck like her dad, treading the same path his whole life. She didn’t think her dad was very happy.

Anyway, Paul had been nice. Skinny and lean, with curly brown hair, a strong nose and a dimple in one cheek. Lauren had done several tumblr entries about that one dimple. He wasn’t gorgeous or anything, just kind and safe. Camila had liked him because he didn’t ignore her when she was with Lauren, even though Lauren was so much more interesting than her.

Paul and Lauren had ended when Paul had moved away to Michigan at the end of Grade Eight, and Lauren had cried a lot for a week. This had made Camila very distressed, but when she’d told her mom- unable to keep her turmoil inside her any longer- about how Lauren was broken after losing the love of her life, her mom had laughed for a long time and called the both of them dramatic. “Give it two weeks,” She’d said. “Lauren will have set her eyes on someone else. You’re too young for love.”

Looking at the sheepish shrug Lauren gave in response to her question, Camila thought maybe her mom was right.

 ***

When Camila gets home, dropping her sandy bag by the door, she’s surprised by how quiet the house is. Usually her mom would be cooking dinner by now, loud Latin music playing. Her sister would have the Telly on, and beg Camila to come watch. Her dad would be getting ranting on about the latest injustice at his work.

But it’s dead silent. Camila's figures she could hear a moth if it hit the window right now. No one has bothered to turn the hallway light on as it's gotten darker. Chewing on her lip, Camila calls out. “Hello? Mom, dad?”

“In the kitchen Camila.” Her Mom’s voice sounds extremely weary, the way it does when they’ve been travelling all day. And she’d used her full name.

Apprehension tightening her stomach, Camila heads into the kitchen. Her Mom, Dad _and_ little sister Sofi are all gathered around the kitchen table. Sofi looks relieved to see her; she’s sitting with her legs swinging nervously back and forth, eyes wide and confused.

“Hey Sof.” Camila gives her a soft smile and a touch of her hair before turning to her parents. Her Mom, clutching a glass of wine as if her life depended on it, gives her a thin smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Her Dad doesn’t look up from where he has his head in his hands. Camila notes he still wears his crumpled work shirt.

“What’s going on?” Camila keeps her voice firm, but there’s a telling waver. She’s really scared now. “It’s not Abuela or Abuelo is it?”

“No! They’re fine.” Her Mom is quick to respond, sympathy flashing in her eyes. “It’s just. We’ve had some unfortunate news.” She presses her lips together. Camila’s Mom doesn’t like to use adjectives like “bad”, she thinks they create a negative mind set. But Camila knows whatever this is, it’s very bad.

“What?”

“Your father,” Sinu spares him a frustrated glance, and Camila hates him for his cowardice, he won’t even look at her. “He’s been made redundant.”

Alejandro’s shoulders sag as if the words are physically placed on his shoulders and Camila’s Mom reiterating them only forces them down harder. She supposes in a way he does carry it around now, like a sign pointing at his head marked UNEMPLOYED. Camila’s head feels like its ringing; her Mom is still speaking but she can’t focus on the words.

This isn’t supposed to be happening. She’s supposed to be excited, looking forward to starting High school. Instead her head is swimming, her stomach is torn up with nerves and she can almost feel her life changing for the worst around her.

“ _Camila?”_ Her Mom’s voice sounds strained and worried, up several octaves than usual.

She forces herself to tune back in. “Mija things don’t have to be so bad. Your Dad is going to start looking for another job straight away, we just have to be more careful about money. No wasting it on frivolous things we don’t need and so on. I might have to stop working part-time every day, do some full shifts. Sofi can go to afterschool club until you can pick her up at four…” She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself, but the truth is they’ve just lost two thirds of their income and a few longer shifts is not going to make up for it.

“I’m sorry Mija.” Her Dad is finally looking at her. His eyes are full of self hatred, and Camila can’t bear it, she turns and runs away- from the room, from her father's sad, sad eyes. Up the stairs. Anywhere is better than the claustrophobic disappointment in that kitchen. As she’s leaving she hears Sofi, who’s been dead quiet the whole time, ask “What’s a redundment?”

 She cries for an hour in her bed. Her parents have the good sense to leave her alone. When she finally gets up to go to the toilet, she feels something alien and sticky come off her onto the toilet paper. Already highly strung, the tendrils of panic are setting in when she looks down and sees red.

“Oh, shit.”

 

***


	2. Chapter 2

High School isn’t really anything like they had expected. The Juniors and Seniors look at Freshmans as though they’re something unsightly that the cat dragged in- kind of ridiculous considering they were in their position only a couple of years ago- and take to jostling them in the halls. The older boys check them out in particularly unsettling and leering ways throughout the first week of school, as if evaluating the new stock that’s just arrived. Deeply intimidated by this, and used to the lanky, hairless boys of middle school, not these beefy, hormone emitting young men with their large hands and strong jaws, Camila, Lauren, Dinah and Normani begin to travel in groups or at least pairs whenever they can, arms linked in unity.

 

 They quickly find themselves overloaded with work with teachers seem completely unsympathetic to their transition into High School. In fact, many of them clearly find joy in giving long speeches the first day of classes that leave the students pale faced in anxiety over the workload ahead. Receiving homework from almost every lesson of the day rapidly becomes the norm, often including essays due only within a day or two. Camila can tell it’s really starting to stress Lauren out; as someone who’s cruised through schoolwork all her life, finding herself barely treading water comes as a shock.

 

Thankfully, there are some highlights to finally starting high school. They have the strange thrill of getting on an actual school bus- following the strict hierarchy of younger students at the front and older students at the back of course- when before they only walked. Camila used to call for Dinah, who lived in the same neighbourhood as her, and then the two of them would trot around to the more upmarket streets that Mani and Lauren lived on so the four of them could make their way to school together.

 

On the morning of the first day of school, Camila had woken up to her alarm expecting to find herself in a pool of her own blood. Instead, she’d felt pretty normal, aside from a slight heaviness in the pad she put in her underwear before bed.

“Urghhh.” It’s strange that no matter how much you’ve been looking forward to something, when it comes to getting up in the morning, it immediately becomes hugely less appealing. Camila rolls over onto her stomach, breathing in the familiar scent of her bedsheets. Somewhere outside the proximate bubble of her senses, the sound of the shower whirring and groaning to life can be heard. The plumbing in their house had been faulty for months, but over the summer Camila had adjusted to not waking up to the rattling of the pipes when her Mom went to work each morning.

“Noooo.” She mumbles into her pillow. It was unnatural for her to be awake this early. Two months of lie ins had made her complacent.

Eventually, it’s the uncomfortableness in her underwear that makes her drag herself up and head to wash her face.

A small house means one bathroom. Which means stepping across the dripping wet floor that her mother has kindly left her.

Camila was a person who hated asking for help, she didn’t like people knowing her business and kept things to herself- often self detrimentally. Therefore, the previous night, unlike most teenage girls, she didn’t go to her Mom as soon as she’d discovered that she’d finally, finally, started her period.

(The fact she didn’t exactly want to speak to her parents at that moment only reinforced this decision.)

 Instead, she’d scoured her desk drawers for her secret stash of sanitary towels and fiddled with unpeeling one and correctly putting it in her underwear.

“How do people wear these things.” Camila mumbles for the second time that morning. “It’s like a freaking diaper!” There’s a moment of anxious hesitation over what to do with the old one before she hurriedly raps it in toilet rolls and shoves it to the bottom of the bathroom bin.

The sink is a mess of her mother’s creams, hairbrush, lipstick and foundation, all leaking onto each other a cluttering up the space. Sighing, Camila grabs her toothbrush, applies the toothpaste and risks a glance in the mirror. She wipes away some of steam and immediately her eyes go to her nose- her least favourite feature of her face after her teeth.

“You have a Latin nose.” Her Mom always says. “Strong.”

 

When she’s dressed casually in a striped t-shirt and jeans, and has applied a little lipgloss – (the only makeup she’s really ventured into yet) and has her bow vigilantly in place, she acquires a sudden crippling panic.

What if on her first day of high school, she gets, like, a visible blood stain on her pants? That would be humiliating. She wouldn't be able to come back from that.

Envisioning the eyes of students dropping to her crotch and laughing drives Camila to the bathroom to put another pad on top of the one she’s already wearing.

 

 -

 She all but waddles to the bus stop to meet Dinah who’s grin twists into mild confusion and amusement as she watches Camila approach.

“Are you okay Mila? You’re walking funny.”

“Yes.”

“Like you’re about to crap yourself.”

“I pulled a muscle in my leg at the beach yesterday.”

“Huh.” Dinah side eyes her for a second, but her unrestrainable eagerness for gossip takes priority. “Speaking of the beach, Lauren mentioned on the phone last night that you guys met a cutie.” Her long, angular fingers pull excitedly at the straps of her backpack.

“Urm…” For a second Camila’s mind goes blank. Then she remembers. “Oh right, Keaton.” She responds vaguely. This is not enough for Dinah who tuts impatiently.

“Well, give me the deets! Lauren, typically, would hardly tell me anything.” She exclaims, rolling her eyes in a way that almost defied gravity.

“That’s because there’s really not much to tell. He was actually kind of a jerk.”

Dinah sighs. “You think all boys are jerks.”

“That’s because they are.” Camila mutters petulantly, kicking a stone as the bus trundles in and the unenthusiastic teenagers around them drag their feet towards it.

\-  

Camila shifts uncomfortably on the way to school one too many times and Lauren flicks her a concerned look. She’s looking blissfully pretty in a short sleeved, red cotton blouse and light blue jeans, an outfit that brings out the natural tint of her lips and contrasts nicely against her dark hair, Camila notices. When she herself had got on the bus Lauren had grinned at her, tapping the seat next to her before tweaking her bow. “Cute.” Camila had blushed self-consciously.

Right now, Lauren leans closer to her, her floral perfume caressing Camila’s nose, and murmurs, “Are you nervous or something? You’re all…wriggly.”

Camila bites her lip in embarrassment. “No. I mean yeah a bit, it’s a big change obviously, but that’s not, it’s not why-”

“Camz.” Lauren cuts her off, frowning now. “What’s up?”

Camila leans closer and opens her mouth to tell her, when the bus hits a speed bump, jolting its occupants and causing Lauren and Camila’s heads to knock together. They both screech, Lauren grabs her head in pain. “Omg, I better not get a damn egg!”

Dinah pushes her head through the gap in the seats. “What are you bishes yelling about?” She takes in the scene of the two of them holding their heads and cackles.

“Your head is so freakin' heavy!” Lauren whines.

Camila huffs. “My head is a perfectly normal weight thank you very much. And stop swearing, your Mom would kill you.”

Lauren rolls her eyes. “Well she’s not here is she? You gonna tattle on me?”

“Honestly,” Dinah laughs. “I’d think y’all were five the way you’re going at it!”

Lauren is a bit huffy the last couple of minutes to school, before she borrows a hand mirror of Mani’s- ever equipped- and confirms that her forehead isn’t visibly damaged. After that she lightens up again, and participates in the excited chatter as they all dismount off the bus and enter the school for the first time.

It’s huge. And crowded.

Camila is immediately overwhelmed by the hundreds of layered voices surrounding her. Anxiety grips her. She feel like an ant amidst hundreds of others, all climbing over each other. Before she can do much at all, Lauren grabs her arm and drags her to the nearest bathroom- which is thankfully not too hard to find. Camila lets herself be pulled along without protestation, because well, it’s Lauren; she trusts her.

The bathroom is a bit of a sorry sight. Grey ominous cubicles are heinously decorated with crude statements; Camila’s eyes are drawn to a door labelled _$10 for a blowie_ with an arrow pointing inwards. A few girls lean against sinks reapplying make up or chatting. Two of them at the far end are smoking out of a small window. Camila gapes at them. This isn’t anything like middle school.

No one pays them any attention.

“Stop staring.” Lauren tilts her chin towards her. She too looks a little out of her depth, her eyes flicking to the smokers and back, but she hides it quickly.

“Now, what was it you were going to tell me on the bus? Before you head butted me.”

Camila might have protested that fact had Lauren’s unfailingly caring nature not made her go a little soft inside. Dinah or Normani, though well intentioned, would definitely have forgotten that Camila was ever going to tell them anything. But Lauren, ever attentive, hadn’t let the small fact of their first day of school get in the way of making sure she was okay.

“I-” She makes sure no one can hear. “I started my period.” She whispers.

Lauren’s eyes widen. “On the bus?!”

 “No, _no,_ what the heck? Of _course_ not, I’d be totally freaking out!”

 Lauren examines her pointedly. “You _are_ freaking out.”

 Camila ignores her, taking a breath. “I started it last night, and I dunno I wasn’t really sure what to do…”

“Why didn’t you ask your Mom? I know you two have serious issues with communication but she is a woman Camz. She’s been dealing with periods for like over 30 years-”  
“Yes Lauren.” Camila cuts her off impatiently. “I am aware of all those things, thank you.” She fiddles with her bag strap, toeing the ground. “I just didn’t really feel like talking to her.” She’s not ready to talk about _that_ yet.

Lauren doesn’t immediately respond. Camila hazards a glance up at her and instantly regrets it. Lauren’s eyes are narrowed, evaluating her in a way that shows she trying to see past the bullshit. She opens her mouth to reply so Camila cuts her off quickly.

“Anyway,” She whispers. “I panicked and now I’m wearing _two pads!”_

Her eyes scan Lauren’s face desperately and she notices her lips twitch. “Camz.” She says fondly, and steps forward, pulling her into a hug. Camila is confused as to why exactly she’s being hugged, but goes with it. A few seconds later Lauren’s body starts to shake slightly, and Camila huffs when she realises it’s with laughter.

“Lauuuren.” She pouts into her shoulder.

Lauren eventually feels a little bad, and explains briefly to Camila about pad usage, when to change them, (how she doesn’t need to wear two at a time), and other useful information such as how her periods would be irregular at first, and more than likely quite light to begin with.

“Come to mine after school and I’ll teach you about tampons. They’re superior in every way to those nasty pads.” Lauren scrunches her nose up, and Camila nods her affirmation.

 

The bell rings, piercing their little bubble and they realise with a start that most of the girls have dispersed from the bathroom.

 

“Come on Camz, let’s go.” Lauren pulls on her arm and she’s following her out when she remembers something.

“Lauren,wait, one more question.”

 

“What?”

 

“What’s a blowie?”

 

-

 

Lauren finds that most of her lessons, though fast paced, are bearable; her teachers strict, but human, and her classmates on the whole, decent.

 

By the first Friday she’s exhausted. She has a dull ache in the back of her neck from craning over desks all week, and a distinct lack of patience for last period History class.

Normally, History is a subject she relishes, especially when it comes to educating her fellow ignorant students. This her first class of the year, she should be excited, however she can’t stop her eyes drifting towards the unhurried clock every few seconds as they wait for the teacher to arrive.

 

She tugs absentmindedly tugs on the sleeve of her striped blue crop top and edges a little further to the right of her seat as the girl next to her sneezes repulsively for the fifth time in three minutes. _Gross._

Finally,ten minutes late, the teacher swoops his way in and slams a briefcase down on his desk, successfully catching the attention of the students in the room. The obvious hostile attitude and dramatic entrance reminds Lauren of the character _Snape._ She can tell straight away that this guy has a serious chip on his shoulder. But hey, maybe he’ll prove her wrong, she thinks, even though optimism isn’t in her palette today.

 

Mr Tanning, is a lean man of around thirty, with hair that flops lifelessly on to his forehead; already greying slightly around the edges, and ingrained frown lines.  He leans two large hands on his desk and surveys the class of wary teenagers in front of him.

 

“Rule number one.” He drawls, dragging out his ‘r’s in a way that makes Lauren’s ears twinge. “I, the teacher, know more than you, the student. So don’t try and challenge me, because you will fail.” He pulls his hands off the table and puts them behind his back, starting a slow stroll around the classroom. “Don’t try to correct me, because you will fail.”  
He comes to a stop in front of Lauren’s desk just as she rolls her green eyes at his ridiculous attempt of intimidation.

“And if you decide that having an _attitude_ is the way you’re deeming to go; you will also fail. The _class.”_

 

He catches Lauren’s eye and raises an eyebrow. She stares impassively back at him until he walks away.

 

This was going to be a long year.

 

 -

 

“You don’t understand, he’s the absolute worst!” Lauren whines, slumping against the cafeteria table. Camila makes a sound of sympathy and runs her hand through Lauren’s hair. Dinah rolls her eyes. Lauren’s been moaning about this stupid history teacher for the good part of three weeks now and her ears are fed up.

“You pander to her too much Mila, some teachers are just strict, you gots to get over it.’”

Lauren lifts her head and glares at Dinah, who stiffens a bit but holds her eye.

“Dinah.” Lauren’s tone is short and irritated, suggesting Dinah is about to get hit with some facts. “He’s sexist, rude, egotistical, and I’m building my evidence but I’m pretty sure he’s racist as well.”

Dinah snorts at that. “Oh so they’d let a racist teacher teach here?” She looks to Mani in disbelief. “Where there’s black students?” Mani looks awkwardly down at her food.

“You’re so naïve.” Lauren says condescendingly. “As if that’s ever stopped racism before.”

Camila feels tense. Dinah and Lauren have always been at odds with each other, it’s only in the past year or two that they’ve become friends.

When Camila first moved to Miami from Cuba, she was a painfully shy, skinny girl five-year-old who could only speak stilted English that she had picked up from watching American cartoons. Going to school had be thoroughly intimidating; everyone hag giggled at her accent, and the teacher had treated her as though she had special needs, introducing her as someone who “everyone needs to watch out for”, and speaking in a slow, patronising tone. This of course painted a target on her back for people to tease and shove her around. She cried in the bathroom a lot her first few days of school and longed to be back in Cuba where people understood her.

 

That was until Lauren approached her one lunchtime. She’d been off sick that week and had come back to school to find a new girl in class, one with big brown eyes, knobbly knees and a thick Cuban accent.

Hesitantly she asked her her name in Spanish, and was greeted with a look of undisguised surprise and pure hope.

 

“Camila.”

And there formed an unbreakable tie. Camila adored Lauren; followed her around like she was her shadow. Very quickly, with Lauren’s patient help, Camila was able to pick up enough English to answer questions in class, communicate a little with the other kids and generally feel a lot more comfortable in Miami as whole. Slowly the teacher stopped shooting her concerned looks, and people generally left her alone- which is all she really wanted. Lauren seemed to enjoy teaching her things, enjoyed the look of unabashed adoration Camila would give her for knowing things as small as how to tie her shoelaces.

 

In Grade Three, Camila and Lauren were put in different classes, and Camila met Dinah.

Dinah was a tall, loud girl with a houseful of siblings and an unfiltered way of speaking.

 

One day in Math class, they had been doing multiplication sums.

_"7 bananas x 6 apples="_

“You say ‘banana’ weirdly.” Dinah says, referring to Camila’s accent which is still prominent with certain words.

Affronted, Camila does what she always does when people are mean to her, which is ignore them until they get bored. She doesn’t have a quick tongue like Lauren, besides she gets nervous in confrontations.

Unfortunately, that doesn't work with Dinah.

“Hello?” She waves a ruler in her face. “Did you hear me short stack?”

Camila carries on doing sums.

“What’s your name?”

“Camila.” She replies shortly. In Cuba, she’d gone by _Karla_ but had always hated it, and upon coming to America her Mom had allowed her to take on the name _Camila_ instead.

“That’s a pretty name.”

Surprised, she looks up at Dinah and catches her smiling a very infectious smile, one that she returns, albeit cautiously.

Later that lesson, Dinah had whispered a joke about the teacher that caused Camila to giggle loudly, and she soon discovered Dinah hated lessons and had wicked sense of humour.

The two soon become fast friends. Dinah is carefree and a little crazy; she brings out a goofy side in Camila that is usually kept back by her shyness. Camila is forever grateful to Dinah for bringing a lightness into her life, as she’s always been too in her head and serious.

 

Lauren didn’t like Dinah. Dinah returned her sentiment entirely.

Camila remembers one lunch time she’d desperately wanted her two friends to play together with a bunch of other girls. They’d been playing some playground game and Lauren had taken charge like she usually did. In front of the girls, Dinah had mocked the way Lauren’s voice got higher when she was being bossy.

“If you don’t have rules, the game doesn’t work.” Lauren retorts, voice indignant.

“Rues are boring.” Dinah shrugs. Lauren’s cheeks tinge pink with annoyance and she stamps her foot.

“If you don’t want to _play,_ go away!” The other kids watch with wide eyes.

“I do want to play, just not with you, you’re no fun.”

Gasps.

Lauren had ended up slapping Dinah on the arm, which unfortunately, only made Dinah laugh, as even back then, Lauren was a lot smaller than Dinah and her hits weren’t very hard.

“Even my little sister hits better than you.” Dinah goads.

Lauren runs off, and Camila throws Dinah an angry look before following her. She finds her small body curled up around the corner, against the wall. Her cheeks are wet and her lip is wobbling as she looks at Camila with shining mossy eyes.

“I _hate_ her.” Clenching tiny fists, her voice is filled with convincing passion for an eight-year-old. “She made me look stupid in front of everyone. I hate looking stupid!”

“I know.” Camila crouches next to her, and unfurls one of her fists to hold her hand. Even back then, there was little that Lauren loathed more than being undermined or treated unjustly.

“Why- why is she like that? She’s so annoying and she can never play a game properly, or learn a dance without getting bored. She always makes fun of my height, or my voice or my hair.” She stumbles over the words in her utter indignation. Lauren had got a bad haircut a few months ago and Dinah had gone to town with that, calling her Michael Jackson at every opportunity for the way her hair sat awkwardly below her ears in dark curls.  

“Why do you like her Camz?” Her voice is small.

Camila shrugs uncomfortably. “She’s nice to me. And she can be funny I swear, I don’t know why she’s so mean to you…” She trails off. “She was the first friend I made in my new class.”

Lauren’s lip quivers. “You’re supposed to be _my_ friend.” The words get caught painfully in her throat.

Feeling an unpleasant coiling in her stomach, Camila pulls her into a tight hug. “I _am._ ” She whispers fiercely into Lauren’s ear. 

"Promise?"

“ _Always_.”

 

Even now, sitting at their lunch table in Freshman year, Camila can see those similar differences between Lauren and Dinah showing their face. Lauren still hates being challenged or mocked, and she’s especially sensitive to Dinah’s way of jibing at her. While Lauren is like a sponge, soaking in the world around her; constantly analysing and questioning and arguing, Dinah lives in her own bubble, unbothered by what she sees as the small things in life. If it doesn’t have to be an issue, in Dinah’s mind it shouldn’t be an issue.  She finds Lauren uptight and self-righteous, while Lauren finds her obnoxious and ignorant.

 

Camila sits in the middle, wishing the two people she loves the most in the world, besides her family, could get along.

“Don’t patronise me, puta.” Dinah growls.

“Stop saying stupid things then.” Lauren exasperates. “You really have no idea what goes on around you, because you spend all your time with your headphones plugged in your ears, blasting Beyoncé! Why would I lie about how awful my teacher is? I’m sorry that I’m boring you Dinah, but this is my education!”

“You’re whiter than snow!” Dinah spits back. “Stop acting like you have all this knowledge about racism! And yeah maybe you are boring me.” She shrugs. “Is it so wrong that I want to talk about other things besides politics, politics, politics, social injustice, or your duller than hell debate class that you go to?”

 Lauren flicks her hair behind her shoulders and leans forward, ready to tear Dinah one, when Mani interrupts. “Guys! Please, chill. It’s not worth it and people are staring.” She leans forward conspiringly, and Camila can tell she’s desperate to diffuse the atmosphere between the two girls. “Look, Lauren, Keaton’s staring at you again.”

 Lauren continues to glare at Dinah for a few tense seconds. Her shoulders are rock hard, and her eyes are narrowed with fury. Camila holds her breath, convinced that Lauren isn’t going to let up, when thankfully Lauren inhales and exhales in a clear effort to calm herself and turns to face Mani.

 “What?”

“ _Keaton.”_ Mani reiterates, relief evident on her face. “He’s keeps glancing over.” Lauren goes to look and she squeals. “Don’t make it obvious girl!”

Throughout the past few weeks of school, Lauren had attempted to smile or greet Keaton whenever they happened to pass each other in the hallway. However, if with a group of his rowdy friends, Keaton would proceed to look past her as if she were a ghost. If alone, he might offer a weak smile but wouldn’t stop to chat.

This had hurt Lauren’s feelings at first, and caused her to draw the conclusion that he had just been humouring her at the beach.

But then, the staring had started.

Camila had noticed first. She may be talking to Lauren at her locker and see him lingering across the hall, checking Lauren out from behind, or watching her mid-laugh in the cafeteria. She’d even seen him throwing jealous looks at her by the school bus one time when she’d been chatting to another guy. The cheek of it!

She thought he was totally creepy, not to mention a coward for not approaching her.

Right now he’s doing his usual, and Lauren looks slightly embarrassed, if not flattered, by his lingering stares.

“He’s obsessive, Lo, it’s weird. Why can’t he just talk to you?” Camila questions.

Lauren shrugs, and Mani replies. “Because he’s a boy _duh._ They never make things simple.”

 _Boys._ Camila thinks. _Not worth the trouble they cause._

 

Dinah and Lauren ignore each other completely for the rest of lunch, and by the time the final bell rings, Camila doesn’t think her day could possibly be worse. She cannot wait to go home and escape the tension between her friends.

 She’s pulling books out of her locker when Lauren bounds up, practically bursting with the need to tell her something.

“Your mood has improved exponentially.” Camila observes, amused. “What happened? Did Mr Tanner take a nasty fall?”

Lauren rolls her eyes at his name. “I wish. No, something totally unexpected just happened!”

Camila feels her stomach tighten in apprehension and she doesn’t know why. “What?”

Instead of telling her straight out, Lauren pulls her in closer by the arm, glancing around before whispering.

“Keaton just asked me out! Can you believe it?”

 

Oh.

 

Turns out Camila’s day could get a little worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave any thoughts/opinions you have, and thanks for reading. :)


	3. Chapter 3

“But what if your Mom finds out?” Camila whines from where she lies on the bed, adorned in sweatpants and unhappily eating a bag of Doritos.

 

“She won’t. Look, as long as _your_ Mom thinks I’m here, then we’re all good. Kay?” Lauren wobbles for a second on one leg as she pulls a tight mini skirt over her slim hips.

 

Camila huffs. “But, your Mom can be really scary, and you know she’ll like ban you from sleeping over-“ she falters for a second as Lauren pulls off the casual sweater she’s wearing and stands in a lacy bra that Camila has _never_ seen before.

 

“What the hell is that?” Camila asks, mouth agape.

 

Lauren turns around, a blush lightly colouring her freckled cheeks. “What does it look like numnuts? It’s a bra.”

 

“Yeah but…it’s like, _fancy."_

“Yeah well, I bought it the other day after softball practice. Topshop has them.”

 

“I _know_ your Mom hasn’t seen that oth’wise you’d be dead.”

 

Lauren scoffs. “Of course not. I’m not _stupid,_ I keep it stuffed at the back of my underwear drawer.”

 

There’s a pause as Lauren pulls at the bra a bit, flustered under Camila’s openly analytical gaze.

 

“I didn’t know you could even get bras like that in your size.” Camila says dubiously. She was pretty sure Lauren still wore like a double A, she herself was stuck in a training bra, sadly.

 

“Well,” Lauren pauses awkwardly. “I kinda stuffed it with toilet roll.”

 

“What?!”

“What? Loads of the girls do it.”

 

Lauren turns around to keep on dressing, pulling on a dark red, tight top before examining herself in Camila’s full length mirror. She feels self-conscious; not normally one to wear outfits like this, but today after school Keaton had pulled her in by her hips and whispered in her ear, “Wear something hot tonight babe.”

 

And well, it was their _third_ date, and she didn’t want him to think she was a prude, right?

 

The clock read 9:45pm. She had told her Mom she was sleeping over a Camila’s, as she often did on Fridays, but really Keaton was coming to take her out at 10pm. She was nervous.

 

“How do I look?” She turns around to face Camila, purposefully ignoring the unhappy look she wears.

 

“Too good for him.”

 

Camila doesn’t blink, and Lauren feels stripped under the candid sincerity of her bronzed eyes. There’s a twinge in her chest, as though deep down she knows this is an important moment, and the words ones she should consider, but she _wants_ to do this exciting thing, wants to be able to tell all the other girls that she’s dating a _senior_ when she’s only a freshman. She wants her Mom to stop telling her to relax on the politics, and to get outside of her head because she hasn’t really experienced anything. You see, life has been nice but not thrilling on the whole, and when Keaton pulled her behind that staircase two weeks before, and whispered about how gorgeous her lips and eyes were, how he couldn’t take his eyes off her all week, she’d felt a spark of something stirring in her chest that was different to her conventional, conservative Miami life.

 

So she steps forward and runs her thumb along the contorted furrowing of Camila’s brow.

 

“I’ll be back by Midnight babe.”

 

-

 

At around quarter past ten, Keaton beeps his horn once, and both Camila and Lauren’s eyes flash for a second in panic at the thought of Camila’s Mom going to investigate. When there’s no footsteps in the house, Lauren scrambles to grab her jacket and sling her purse over her shoulder, giving Camila a quick peck on the cheek- “Thanks for doing this Camz.”- and then she’s out the window before Camila can even blink.

 

-

 

In the car, Keaton lounges in the driver’s seat, dressed in a semi unbuttoned grey, cotton shirt and faded jeans. He reaches across the joystick to open the car door for Lauren, running appraising eyes over her tanned legs as she struggles to get in without her skirt riding up.

 

“Babe…you look smokin’,” He immediately pulls her in with a hand behind her neck and kisses her, hard.

 

Lauren is still a bit awkward when it comes to kissing; it’s all very new to her. With Paul it was mostly short, sweet kisses and hand holding. Keaton kisses messily, wet lips and tongue gliding everywhere, but the firm grip of his hand on her neck feels hot and exhilarating. The pungent smell of smoke quickly fills her nose and she pushes Keaton back, confused. That’s until she becomes aware of the hazy outlines of two other people in the back of Keaton’s old car, smoking.

 

“The hell?!”

“Oh, right.” Keaton laughs. “This is Mason and Zayn, my boys, they’re coming out tonight too.”

 

“Alright?” The one that Keaton pointed out as Mason greets. She can’t really make out much about him aside from his dirty brown hair and a pair of intimidating blue eyes appraising her. The other guy doesn’t speak, preferring instead to sink further back in his seat and inhale deeply from what he’s holding, surprisingly delicately, between his thin fingers.

 

“Um, hi.” Lauren turns back around. “Can we get out of here please?” She asks Keaton sharply, who nods and puts the car into gear.

 

-

 

They end up at a skate-park. It’s lit up, and there’s a medium gathering of people, mostly juniors and seniors it seems, all drinking cheap beers and chatting. Quite a few of the guys are skating around, and Keaton himself murmurs to Lauren that he too likes to skate. He parks the car, pulls a sweater on and grabs a board from the trunk, before taking Lauren’s hand and leading her over to the group of teenagers. Lauren watches her feet, not wanting to trip over anything dodgy.

 

Within half an hour she has successfully forgotten the names of about twenty people she’s been introduced to, all of whom greet her with a range of attitudes; curiosity, disinterest, amusement at her age, and for some of the guys whose eyes linger a little too long; attraction.

 

Keaton keep an arm tightly around her waist, a beer in one hand as he chats in a relaxed manner to his friends. He offers Lauren one too that she takes, sipping slowly at the putrid taste. It becomes quite clear that the reason Keaton wanted her to dress up tonight wasn’t to take her somewhere nice, but rather to parade her around in front of his friends.

 

She doesn’t really know how to feel about that, but figures it’s better than being ignored at school.

A lot of people are smoking like Keaton’s friends were in the car, and Lauren turns her head into Keaton’s neck to tentatively ask what exactly it _is,_ as it smells weird and doesn’t look like

cigarettes.

Keaton laughs, amused, and whispers back that its weed, before squeezing her good naturedly and saying, “You’ll know soon enough.” Then he turns his head and begins to make out with her, long and deep. Lauren feels like someone’s plucking on the strings of her stomach like a guitar, and each vibration is burning hot. His hand slowly makes its way down to rest hesitantly on her ass, and she stutters slightly as he uses it to pull her in closer.

Eventually some guy kicks an empty beer can at them, shouting “Stop kissing the jailbait and come skate!”

They pull apart wetly, and Lauren thinks it’s the longest she’s ever kissed someone. Her lips feel swollen and almost sore. Keaton flashes her a grin, “Won’t be long.” He stamps on the end ofhis board so it shoots up into his hand, before running forward and letting it drop, leaping onto it as it curves over the edge and down the ramp. It’s actually kind of impressive.

 

In that free frame he looks alive, curly hair blowing back in the wind and a gleeful expression on his face.

 

Lauren sits back in a daze, utterly surrounded by other teenagers but completely out of place now that Keaton isn’t next to her.

 

For a second she wishes Camila was there with her to experience all these overwhelmingly different moments.

  

-

 

Keaton drives her back around 12:30am, after swearing he’s sober. To be fair, he’d only had a couple of beers and he’d spent a lot of the night either skating or making out with Lauren. She doesn’t really have much of a choice anyway, he’s her only ride back.

 

Lauren climbs up the ladder to Camila’s bedroom as quietly as possible, but ends up miscalculating the step down from the window to the bedroom floor, finding air where she thought there’d be solid ground.

 

“Oof.” She lands ungracefully.

 

“Lo?” Lauren can make out a bundle of bed hair as Camila sits up sleepily.

 

“Hey.” She whispers. “Sorry, were you sleeping?” She scrunches her face up apologetically.

 

“Um, only a little.”

 

“A little?”

 

“Well, yeah, okay maybe I was, but don’t worry about it. I couldn’t sleep properly ‘til you were back anyway.”

 

Lauren smiles softly. “Cutie.” She stands and wobbles, realising that perhaps _she’s_ a little tipsy- low alcohol tolerance and all that.

 

“You okay?” Camila giggles. Lauren nods, unfazed. “Coming to bed?” She switches on her bedside light, illuminating the room in a soft glow. Lauren thinks how cuddly she looks in her old thin sweater, tartan knees pulled up to her chest.

 

“One sec.” As quickly and quietly as possible she strips out of her tight clothes, pulling her own soft pyjamas out of her bag and dressing in the affectionate view of Camila, before running amakeup wipe across her eyes and lips.

 

Camila eagerly pulls the duvet back, but Lauren hesitates. “I need to pee,” She says, sounding deeply disappointed in her bladder. Camila giggles. 

 

“Okay, I’ll come with you and hold my phone light so you don’t wake anyone up with the bathroom one.”

 

They make their way along the corridor giggling quietly and shushing each other. At one point Camila stands on a cuddly toy of Sofi’s and a squeak sounds in the air from it.

 

Lauren comes to a halt at the sudden noise. “Shhhh!”

 

“Shit, sorry! I didn’t know that was there.” Camila balances herself by gripping onto Lauren's soft hips. “You can go ahead now, I’ll the light directed at the floor.” She scratches gently at her skin in encouragement.

 

Somehow they make it to the bathroom and back without any parent coming to tell them off, though Camila does think she heard a loud sigh resounding from her parent’s bedroom whilst Lauren was peeing.

 

Camila lets out a contented noise of satisfaction when they’re back in bed, bladder empty and minty fresh- Lauren remembered while in there that she had yet to clean her teeth, telling Camila this urgently from where she sat on the toilet.

 

“Are you drunk or something?!”

 

“No I just _have_ to clean my teeth!” Lauren didn’t like the idea of that cheap beer sitting on her teeth all night. “Camzzz?”

 

“Okay, okay, you can borrow my toothbrush.” She sighs, not wanting to go all the way back to her bedroom to retrieve Lauren's.

 

Back in bed, Lauren watches as Camila fights the fluttering of her heavy eyelashes. “It was really strange tonight, Camz.”

 

“Mmm?”

 

“Yeah, like I dunno.” She swallows. “It was like an outside _party_ almost, you know how we’d always imagine when were like twelve, what the high school parties would look like?”

 

Camila opens her eyes tiredly but curiously. “Yeah?”

 

Lauren pauses, running her tongue over her still sore lips. “It’s kinda just a bunch of bored teenagers drinking.”

 

“Oh. Isn’t that what we thought it would be?”

“Yeah except it’s not as cool as we imagined. But it was still intimidating.” She laughs lightly.

 Camila lifts a hand and strokes Lauren’s soft hair. “Tell me more about it in the morning, I’m tired.”

“Okay.” Lauren whispers. She watches as Camila gratefully closes her eyes, hand still entwined in Lauren’s hair. She waits several minutes until she hears here breathing even out, before confiding: “I missed you tonight, Camz.”

 

Camila smiles and pulls her in closer.

 

-

 

Camila awakes the next morning with a face full of fruity smelling hair and two warm hands under her sweater. The corners of her mouth tug up fondly into a smile. Lauren always likes to slide two hands under her top when she sleeps, it’s a strange infantile need to be closer to the comfort of Camila’s bare skin; she’s done it since Camila can remember.

 

The sun filters through her window, creating bright target spots on the wall opposite, and Camila realises Lauren forgot to shut the curtains last night when she came through.

 

The brightness has woken her up at 8am on a _Saturday._

“Urgh.” She glares half-heartedly at the tangle of hair on her chest. “It’s alright for you, buried into me like a little mole.”

Resigning herself to consciousness, she lies there for a while, thinking, as one often does in the early morning when they have nothing to get up for.

There’s a quietness in the air that comes from the exhaustion of those who have worked all week, one that the poor souls who _do_ work Saturdays even abide by, peeling themselves out of bed and leaving their houses silently, like ghosts, envious of those resting around them.

 

She thinks about how her Dad used to work Saturdays, instead having Fridays off. When she was younger she used to love this: every Friday her Dad would be there to pick her up from school, arms wide open for her to run into, and they’d go get an ice cream, or take a trip to the park to feed the ducks. In the evenings her father would cook dinner, and he’d hoist her up to sit on the countertop, letting her do the small but vital things such as add the salt, or pour in the sauce. It would be ready for when her Mom came home from work, weary from the day and in need of a hot meal.

She's always smile in a tired but affectionate way and say, "Gracias mis amores."

On Saturdays she’d try to wake up early enough to catch her dad before he left, bounding down the stairs in soft slippered feet to find him sat at the kitchen table, mug of coffee in one hand,flipping through the paper with the other. Sometimes she’d be late and he’d already be by the door, gathering things into his briefcase or putting on his coat.

 “Ah Mija,” He’d always say. “You don’t have to say goodbye to me, I’ll see you in a few hours. A growing girl like you needs her sleep!”

 But she knew he didn’t mean it, having watched him once from the top of the stairs and seen the reluctance on his face, the checking of the watch when he thought he might have to leave without saying goodbye.

 She doesn’t know when exactly it stopped, maybe when she became a teenager and realised that yes, she really did need and want her sleep.

 

Now Fridays aren’t so magical. The previous week she got home from school to find a silent house, and initially thought her dad must still be out job hunting. She was tired, had a crick in her neck and had spent the last twenty minutes on the school bus hearing about Lauren’s date with Keaton. They’d gone out for pizza- their first date had been burgers- and he’d kissed her in thecar on the way back. “A _proper_ kiss Camz, not an Aunty peck like Paul used to give me.”

 “You _liked_ Paul.” Camila pointed out accusingly.

 “He was alright.” Lauren shrugged and turned to look at the window.

She’d made her way further into the house and only then had she heard the faint hum of the television. Glancing into the kitchen she could see the dishes were dirty and piled up, the washing hadn’t been taken in and her dog Ringo was scrabbling at her legs, clearly eager for a walk.

 “Dad…” She called out, praying to God he wasn’t home.

She found him in the living room, slumped on the couch and staring absently at the T.V. He wore his old jeans that had the holes in and a patriotic sweater. There were empty cartons on thecoffee table from where he’d obviously had Chinese. 

He didn’t even notice she was there, and too upset by the depressing sight, she'd backed out of the room. It hadn't taken long for her to decide she should probably go get Sofi, not wanting torisk her being greeted after school by the shadow of a his former self her dad was being right now. Before leaving she’d reluctantly poked her head back in the living room door.

 “Dad,” She said, albeit a bit sharply.

 “Huh?” He said up in obvious shock at her voice, before planting a smile on his face that he wore uncomfortably like an ill fitted mask. “Mija! I, uh, didn’t hear you get back.”

“Yeah…” Camila rocked back and forth on her feet. “Listen I’m just gonna go pick up Sofi,”

 She watched her Dad’s eyes widen and look towards the clock before he opened his mouth to reply. She cut him off before he could speak. “No, it’s fine. I’ll do it. But uh, I think Mom

mentioned she wanted the dishes doing before she got back from work…”

 “Right. Of course.” He weakly smiled.

 She ended up taking Ringo with her, and then going to the park with Sofi after school to give her dad some time to clean himself, and the house, up.

 

Camila’s shaken out of her thoughts by the stretching of Lauren beside her as she lets out a cat like purr of contentment.

She lets her eyes trace the contours of Lauren’s delicate face; the widows peak, dark eyebrows, naturally rouge lips and her slight nose, scattered with freckles. Lauren complains about her nose, saying it has a small bump, and has on numerous occasions dragged Camila to a mirror to point it out.

 

“That’s just the shape of your nose, it curves ever so slightly on the right.” Camila protests.

“But it’s uneven!”

“Nothing in nature is perfectly symmetrical.”

Lauren had shoved her but smiled nonetheless. “Whatever. You can’t deny I have stupid rabbit teeth though.”

 

Camila sees that her bottom lip looks partly swollen and red, as though someone’s nipped at it and immediately feels a little sick inside at the image. Even worse, when Lauren stretches again, lifting her face, Camila’s eyes are drawn reluctantly to the smooth column of her throat, sullied by a blotchy dark crimson mark. She doesn’t know why she’s feeling like this; she doesn’tusually feel any form of discomfort towards Lauren. Perhaps it’s the sense of losing control of things, of everything changing around her. Her dad, Lauren, school.

 

Her throat feels dry and she can’t relinquish the need to repeatedly swallow, as though she’s holding tears at bay.

Why is she so upset? She’s not.

 ...Is she?

Maybe it’s something to do with the fact that she’s always felt approximately one step behind Lauren, safely hidden behind her shoulder and close enough to take her hand if she needs.

But now it seems Lauren is running ahead, taking these great leaps when she’s only just started to crawl.

 

“You been awake long?” Lauren’s scratchy voice startles her. She glances up to see Lauren watching her in a lazy, cat-like way.

“No, just twenty minutes or so.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Lauren yawns, sensitive eyes squeezing shut against the bright sunlight.

Camila shrugs with the one shoulder facing upwards. “I was just thinking I guess. Didn’t mind waiting.”

“You alright?” Ever perceptive, Lauren seems to pick up on her best friend’s low mood.

“Sure. I mean,” Her voice falters slightly and she realises how genuinely upset she is, about Lauren, yes, but mostly about her dad. She’s been keeping it inside now for weeks because she’s embarrassed about the situation, but now she just wants to tell her closest friend. She closes her eyes and whispers: “Well no, not really.”

Lauren sits up in concern.

“Camz?”

Camila opens her eyes to look at her, begins to smile at her bedhead, but falters quickly as she lets out a sudden sob, much to Lauren’s alarm.

And it all spills out, a flood of word vomit about her dad losing his job, how her mom is sharp with her all the time, how immobile her dad has become- and the worst part, how confused Sofiis at all this. It touches her in all the worst ways, pungent in the mood of the house, but too complicated and adult to properly be explained to a five year old in a way that wouldn’t seem so insignificant a thing to be causing such misery.

And above all how no one seems to notice how it’s affecting her.

“Babe. That’s awful. i'm so sorry- I- I didn't even realise...” Lauren voice is soft and fragile and unbearably sympathetic. Camila sobs harder at the sound of it.

 

And Lauren holds her, like she’s always done.


	4. Chapter 4

So Lauren keeps dating Keaton, and it remains an ever-present secret from her parents who Camila knows would never approve of her having a boyfriend. She's also 80% pretty sure Clara Jauregui suspects something from the sharp eyed look she gives Lauren every time a particularly flimsy excuse is presented to her for an otherwise unexplainable absence or occurrence. Camila has an deeply set paranoia that Clara is going to realise that she's the weaker link and interrogate her on the issue.

The previous week the two of them had been sitting dully in Lauren's kitchen attempting their Math homework- an error of judgment in hindsight but the air had a sticky, suffocating quality that day and Lauren's room had been unbearably muggy, leading them to opt for the mercifully cooler kitchen instead. Camila's concentration had been waning, and she found her eyes drifting to focus with unnecessary intensity on a small fly that had dropped into her lukewarm coke and was flailing desperately. In the background Lauren was huffing about the question they were stuck on, erasing her sums with aggressive, twitchy movements. Neither of them were very good at Math. Camila lazily stuck a finger into her glass and swirled it, trying to save the doomed insect. She couldn't seem to bring it to the safety; it would always slip down the condensation on the glass and back into it's syrupy hell.

Camila had empathy for the fly. Lately she felt like she was drowning in her own personal hell. The atmosphere in her house had become unbearable; a constant crackling of negative electricity in the air, sparks of tension flying whenever her parents were in the same room together. She was kept up at night by their hushed, nasty arguing in the bedroom across the hall. Fighting tears, she'd lie there furiously clenching and unclenching her fists, counting the cracks in her ceiling, anything to distract her from the sound of her family falling apart. It would take her hours to fall asleep, leading her to wake up with dark smudges under her eyes. It had reached the point where she had started skipping family breakfasts, preferring instead to grab something to go over the suffocating silence of her parents antagonism.

Too preoccupied she was with watching the fly's struggle, and Lauren with her rage against Math, the two didn't note the familiar click of the oak front door shutting as Clara returned home from work. She was a Math teacher at a local Grammar school- a talent her daughter clearly didn't share- and often stayed behind until around six marking and lesson planning. The two girls jumped in surprise at her sudden appearance. 

"Hola niñas."

"Mamá why do you creep up on us like that?" Lauren's voice was indignant, impatient even. Clara looked bemused as she reached into the cupboard for a glass. Then she spied the Math sheet in front of Lauren. "Ah, Math. That explains it." She reached to turn the sheet towards her but Lauren used the tips of her fingers to slide it pettily away. "I don't need your help." She loathed not being able to do things. 

"Watch that attitude young lady." Clara responded sharply, turning back to the fridge to get some juice out. 

A tense minute passed before Lauren huffed and stood up, wiping a dainty hand across her sweaty forehead."It's too hot to concentrate." She whined, heading toward the tap but a hand on her shoulder turned her abruptly toward her Mom.

"Wha- Mami? I'm sorry okay, you're right I hate Math-" Clara ignored her, instead taking a firm hold on her chin and tilting it to the side so her neck was exposed. The heat meant that both Lauren and Camila had their hair tied up, and in Lauren's case, this meant a rather sizeable hickey was visible on her throat, just under the line of her jaw. 

"What is that?" Clara's voice was hard. Camila swore her heart froze in its cage for a second, paralysed on Lauren's behalf. She stole a glance at her and noticed Lauren go still for a moment before swallowing and schooling her features into a perfect portrayal of irritated confusion.

"What's what?" She retorted, trying to pull out of her Mom's unyielding grip.

"Don't play dumb Lauren Michelle. This mark on your neck- it better not be what I think it is." Her voice was getting steadily louder.

"Oh that. I burnt my neck with my curler this morning. Hurt like hell actually." Lauren complained in an impressively unbothered voice.

"Don't say hell." Clara chided but her voice held less hostility now and her posture wasn't as tense. "If you're lying..."

"I'm not, God!" A stilted moment hovered in time in which Clara studied Lauren with speculative intensity. Camila refused to risk eye contact, instead studiously keeping her eyes fixed on the wall opposite where the lilac wallpaper was flaking away slightly.

Finally, Clara let Lauren go and exits the room with her glass of water. Camila and Lauren exhaled in palpable shared relief.

***

"Eurgh," Dinah gags, aghast, "What is that?" 

Camila distractedly follows the point of her finger as they queue in the cafeteria for their lunch. "Vegetables?" The tray is an unsightly rusty colour, decorated with the ghostly stained remnants of food long gone from this word. Even Camila blanches a little.

Dinah looks traumatised. "That's why I don't eat vegetables."

Camila rolls her eyes as the ever stoic lunch lady spoons a hardened macaroni and cheese onto her plate. "So Halloweens coming up." She grins. Her favourite holiday. "What should we do?"

Dinah shrugs. "Chrissy Martins and her friends are hosting a big party. Even some of the Juniors and Seniors have been talking about it." She says wistfully as they head for their table. "Apparently she's been planning it for like, over a month, it's gonna be awesome."

Camila doesn't much care for Chrissy, a Sophomore they went to middle school with, or her friends but if Dinah wants to go to this party so badly she won't deny her. "Okay, well, we've never really like done a high school party before," her stomach churns a bit in anxiety, "but it should be fun, right?" She looks up at Dinah, expecting to see unbridled excitement on her face, and is instead met with something more like a clouded hopelessness weaved with unfathomable longing in the downward turn of her mouth and vacant eyes. 

"Dinah..? Her voice is cautious, it's not often she sees Dinah like this. Dinah doesn't respond straight away, sticking and unsticking her fork from the clay-like pasta. "Mila, we can't just go to a party like that...we're not, you know, popular enough. It's bad enough that we're Freshman."

Camila sits there, slightly taken aback. Sure she'd noticed in the past couple of months that certain cliques were forming; girls sized up and defined by the most trivial and insubstantial aspects about them; the number of pimples on their faces, the amount of money in their parent's bank accounts, their jean size. Camila has never given it much thought, elements of these things existed even in Elementary school, and back then she was the weird Mexican girl who could hardly speak any English. So, she's grateful in many ways for her anonymity now, happy to shut the pointless competitions and comparisons out with her iPod and paperbacks. She had failed to realise how much it meant to Dinah.

"So what?" She gives her a reassuring smile. "We'll do our own thing on Halloween, and hey you never know, you may get an invite yet- you used to be friends with Lucy and Rebecca didn't you? In dance class?" Dinah had inexplicably refused to re-join dance with Mani this year, and no matter how much Camila nagged at her about it she wouldn't give a clear reason as to why.

Dinah doesn't meet her eye. "Trust me. I won't be getting an invite." There's a strained silence in which only the hum of the layered chatter around them can be heard, like a swarm of distant insects. Camila itches to keep questioning her but by Dinah's slouched, defensive posture; head tilted down at her food, knows that it wouldn't be productive. Instead she changes the topic to more exciting things.

"Well..." She smiles and prods at Dinah's bare arm with her fork. "How about The Haunted Farm... I've been dying to go for years but Mom never let me, says she'd heard, quote, "horror stories" about what they do there-as if that isn't the point of it all." she rolls her eyes but is almost bouncing in her seat with anticipation. 

Dinah smiles, the weight of the previous conversation lifted off her shoulders. "You know i'm all for that, apparently its like, scarring it's so scary." The prospect of this seems especially thrilling to her. "But you know Lauren will never go for it, she's a total scaredy cat."

Camila leant back in her chair, grinning, as her mind played back the events from the previous Halloween. They hadn't done anything outrageous; just trick-or-treating followed by watching horror movies in Dinah's basement. Dinah's house was bursting at the seams with children;she was the oldest of five loud, exuberant siblings who all somehow crammed into the four-bedroom home. Despite the potential money- and space- issues, her parents were still talking of having yet another baby to add to their boisterous household. Dinah's parents were family-orientated. It was a common occurrence for all of her cousins, aunts and uncles to be round for a communal dinner; they had received more than one noise complaint from exasperated neighbours in their 15 years living there. 

An exciting development they'd all be anticipating had occurred over the previous summer: the moving of Dinah's bedroom down to the basement. She'd previously shared with her nine-year-old sister Kamila, and the little one Regina, only two, had still been sleeping in a cot shoved in the corner of her parent's room. Regina had now been moved, much to Kamila's chagrin, into Dinah's old room.

(Gordon, Dinah's dad, was startled when he opened his front door to three eager-and slightly manic- 13 year old girls, ready to help move all Dinah's belongings down to into the lower realms of the house.They'd been planning where everything was going to go and the sleepovers they'd have for weeks. )

Mani and Lauren had fought persistently against Camila and Dinah's desire to plaster the entirety of the walls with the eyesores that were the heinously coloured celebrity posters and ungracefully cut out magazine images of their pop star crushes. They wanted to take a more creative approach.

"Oh like you don't have the Jonas Brothers on your wall!" Dinah pointed out and Camila nodded smugly. Lauren looked affronted and flashed Camila a glare.

"I'm just trying to stop your room from looking like the Disney Channel threw up all over it!" 

Mani agreed. "This is the first time you're getting your own space, girl. Let's compromise-one wall of posters?"

So, Camila and Dinah got their wall of posters and fluffy beanbags, Normani got her dressing table, equipped with hair scrunchies and gooey lip glosses and floor to ceiling mirror combo, and Lauren worked hard at stringing up hanging photos and fairy lights around the room- something they all grudgingly agreed was the best effort at the end. (Lauren accepted this fairly gracefully, with only a hint of self satisfaction.)

 

That halloween the girls had come back to the house flush faced and hyped for a true spooky night in the basement. It had taken some effort to shut out Dinah's sticky fingered siblings,but before long they were changed in cosy pyjamas (halloween makeup remained on) , and the lights were switched off so the only thing illuminating the room was the synthetic glow of the television. The day before they'd headed down to "DVDZ 4 U', a rundown, old movie store in the dead part of town that had only just made the transition from videos. The neon lights in it's name had long since flickered out, and the DVDs themselves were lined with dust. Mani wrinkled her nose and refused to touch them- it was bad enough being in there, she could practically taste the staleness in the air. Lauren was jittery, eyeing the sluggish 20 something behind the till and swearing she'd seen him on a sex offenders list, vetoing every horror movie they picked up and explaining laboriously that they al probably carried viruses programmed to shortcut Dinah's T.V as soon they slotted them in. 

"Lauren for God's sake!" Dinah hissed. "We can't go to the store on main street they'll I.D us; most of these are 15s or 18s! So deal with it..." voice trailing off as she picked up Saw. "Now this is what i'm talking about." Her eyes gleamed.

Lauren blanched. "Absolutely not."

But the others agreed with Dinah. Camila herself had a strange fascination with the gloomy and gory. Perhaps it was her extensive reading, but she was kind of obsessed with the idea of the supernatural; ghouls, devils, witches, folk tales and horror stories passed down generations; other worlds more riveting than her own.

They all put in their dollars- Lauren very reluctantly- and with lip gloss applied, Dinah was elected to go up to the counter being the oldest looking by far. Not only was she the tallest, but she had, well, breasts. Camila and Lauren on the other hand were closer to 5ft and still in training bras. 

The following evening they were huddling down into their sleeping bags with the opening credits of Saw playing eerily into the room. Camila was enraptured for the first twenty minutes and didn't clock on to the terrified lump slowly wriggling toward her. It was only when she turned her head to grab a handful of greasy popcorn and was met with a mouthful of dark hair that she noticed how close someone had gotten.

"What-" She garbled, choking on the hair. "Personal space much?"

Comically large, frightened eyes stared back at her. "Lauren?" No reply. Just the sound of hysterical breathing. "What's wrong?" For an odd second she thought she was having some sort of panic attack. 

"I can't do this." She whispers with a finality not unlike someone about to end it all.

"...what can't you do?" Camila was momentarily distracted by something gruesome on the screen.

"I can't bear this film. The-the effects are terrible and the plot sucks." 

Camila was offended. "The effects are not terrible and plot is great. This film's already a horror classic and it's only been out 5 years!"

Dinah shushed her. Lauren flinched as a particularly ear grating screeching emanated from the screen and Camila clocked. "You're scared!" She whispered in disbelief.

"What? Of course I'm not, why would you say something like that?" Lauren hissed viciously. "We're just not all fans of the horror genre Camz, sorry."

"Then why are you so close to me?"

"I wanted to be closer to the snacks, not you."

Camila studied her for a second; Lauren was behaving like a cornered, defensive cat, fluffed up and claws out. "Do you want to come here?" She tried anyway, lifting an arm for her to slide under, but Lauren stubbornly refused, turning petutnanly back to face the screen. The apprehension in her posture was clear from the fact that her eyes were only open to slits but Camila rolled her eyes and left her to her pride, re-immersing herself in the film. 

Lauren tried. She really did try to calm down but Dinah's basement freaked her out! Being so low in the house, she could hear the pipes rattling and groaning as they sluggishly pumped water for it's inhabitants, and every now and then rapid footsteps could be heard scuttling across the ceiling. The sporadic noises became so she couldn't tell them apart from those coming from the T.V- especially since her eyes were NOT watching- and she felt surrounded, as though she was trapped, not the characters. Her wide eyes kept straying to the shadows of Dinah's posters; the television light transformed the celebrities into gross caricatures of their previous selves, expanding in dark ominous shapes across the walls and towards her.

A scream. Lauren jumped in utter terror. That was it.

Only five minutes had passed when Camila's sleeping bag started to unzip and a warm body squirmed it's way inside.

Lauren spent the rest of the film pressed tightly to Camila's side, eyes closed, and by the second one she was fast asleep. Camila just stroked her hair, feeling pleased that Lauren seeked her out for comfort, and also for the fact that there was something Lauren was scared of. Lauren who would argue with teachers, jump across streams and kiss boys, didn't like a silly little horror movie.

Dinah was merciless when she found this out, refusing to let it go. Still hadn't if her teasing grin as Lauren and Mani join their lunch table is anything to go by. 

Lauren takes one look at her and turns to Camila, raising an eyebrow. "What?" Camila shakes her head, still smiling. There's no stopping Dinah.  
"Heeey there skittish kitten, what are your plans for good ol' halloween?" Dinah's voice is smug and slightly taunting. 

Lauren pointedly ignores her tone. "Keaton has invited me to a party." She unwraps her sandwich, unaware of the drop in Camila's expression and the roll of Dinah's eyes.

"Of course he has. Chrissy Martins' by any chance?" Lauren looks up, startled at the bitterness in Dinah's voice. "And what about it?" She says defensively. Dinah just scoffs. 

"Just thought you might have considered your friends first. You've only known Keaton two months."

"I didn't see you guys sharing your plans or inviting me to anything!" Lauren spits. "I'm sorry that I can't just hang around having no plans until you think of something last minute, I actually have a social life now." 

Dinah barks out a laugh. "Oh right, I forget we had to request to book time with you now. Boyfriend busying up that schedule of yours and all." 

This is bad. Camila looks back and forth between the two. Dinah clearly has a yet-to-be-fully-explained sore spot about the party, and Lauren has a quick temper, especially when it comes to Keaton as Dinah frequently undermines him since he pretty much refuses to acknowledge any of the girls.

"Guys." Mani interrupts before Lauren can fire anything back. Camila notices the purposeful guys over Dinah, knowing as well as Mani that singling out Dinah would only make her more volatile. "Quit ragging on Lauren. She's right. We haven't mentioned any plans, Keaton invited her, why would she turn him down?"

Lauren shoots Mani a grateful look. Camila knows that Lauren actually finds arguing with Dinah draining, she's said as much to her before when they spend time together after school. The two have always bickered but recently it's gotten worse.

Dinah however isn't ready to let it go. "Sorry Mani." Mani nods and seems relieved for a second. But that second is short lived. "I guess I just thought it went day one chicks before two month dick." She shrugs with fake nonchalance. 

Awkward pause. Mani sighs in disappointment. Camila holds her breath anxiously. The waves of annoyance rolling off Lauren are tangible in the air the four of them are breathing. Lauren momentarily catches Camila's eye, searching them, likely for some sort of support. Camila can't help that she too has felt slightly snubbed in favour of Keaton recently, and that maybe Dinah's words contain some truth. Though hard, she holds her tongue. Lauren must see it in her eyes as hurt falls upon her face and she stands up abruptly, gathering together her lunch and shoving it ungracefully into her backpack.

She shakes off Mani's hand- an attempt to stop her- but pauses nonetheless, looking toward Dinah.

"You can't hate me for having a boyfriend, Dinah, it's not fair." Dinah stubbornly stays silent and the words hang in the air as Lauren leaves.

For the remainder of lunch Camila stews in the uncomfortable feeling that ganging up against Lauren leaves churning in her stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while. I was in Africa for 6 weeks, then Turkey. Gap year and all that. Hope you enjoy.


End file.
